Leaving for work at 5:45 am you see some strange things. Today, I saw something not only strange but downright disturbing. Down the block from me on the side of the road there was a man curled up on the pavement. It was freezing out and drizzling, he had a light weight coat and seemed unconscious.
At first, I thought he was a drunkard laying in his own waste. I figured nothing was really wrong with him because there were rows of cars just passing by, slowing down to a crawl to take an inquisitive look and continuing on as if nothing happened. But one driver seemed worried and the man in the street began to moan. I wanted to leave, I was late for work already and this guy had nothing to do with me, but I couldn't walk away.
I stepped closer and saw he was spitting blood, his left eye was completely swollen and bloodshot and he wasn't moving his arms or legs, just moaning, and barely conscious. Yet, I still wanted to leave. I admit, i'm not the friendliest person at times and like to keep to myself, but I knew I had to do something. Besides, that driver that actually looked concerned drove off once he saw that I had stopped to see if the man was Okay.
Once I realized I was alone, in the middle of street, in the freezing rain and that no one else cared what happened to this man it was an obvious decision. I thought about recent acts of kindness my friends and loved ones did and finally understood why. It seems that you truly are alone in this world and even if you are bleeding in the middle of the street most people won't take the time to help, for them, getting to work on time is more important. I called 911 and they sent an ambulance over almost instantly. In the meantime I realized he only spoke Spanish and tried to figure out how he got there. I don't know if he got attacked and mugged or hit by a car, but I hope he is okay now.
The funny thing is that I called my job and told them I was going to be late because of the situation, all they told me is it's a very busy day so I should hurry. They didn't say anything about the injured man in the street. I guess if it doesn't earn you money then most people don't care.
It was a sad realization, but at the same time I'm proud of myself for doing the right thing. Next time, I won't be so reluctant to help someone in need.
Too bad we live in such a cold, cold world.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Save the Libraries!
The group descended on LeFrak Library with a turbulent unorganized chant...
"Open our libraries!" and "We want to read!" Children and seniors roared.
It was a brisk yet powerfully bright afternoon, somehow cool and hot at the same time. We marched from Saint Paul's Church, which is just three blocks away, to the epicenter of our cause- Lefrak Library. We were letting the community know that they were in danger of losing a silent savior of the community. With city budget cuts running rapid the NYC Public Libraries were on the chopping blocks, more specifically- Queens Public Libraries.
In the last fiscal year Queens public Libraries received a $25.9 million budget cut!
"Not on our watch!" The group leader declared.
Twenty-four community libraries will be closed five days a week and average weekly hours of service will be cut to 25 hours a week. Which is a drop of 50% less operation hours per library. I knew budget cuts were becoming an issue because my mother-who has worked for the Queens Public Library for over a year now is at risk of losing her job. I didn't think much of it because everyone I know seems to be at risk of losing their job, but when I saw the flyer about this march while walking to my local super market I knew it was a more pressing issue than just one woman losing a job. The flyer stated that LeFrak Library has discontinued Saturday hours and that it would be only the beginning in budget cuts and eventually branches being closed.
If branches start getting closed the most effected by it would be seniors and children. It is a safe haven for knowledge and a home away from home. It serves as a surrogate babysitter for parents offering after school programs and various educational workshops as well as a place to connect and use a computer if you don't have access to one at home. As I said earlier the majority of the marchers were seniors and children. Kids from the local Girlscouts and Boyscouts made up most of the group- which makes perfect sense. Who else will be effected more? If children have no positive place to learn and study if they cannot do it at home, where will they learn and study? We are in the digital age where most research is done by Google but actual books and the Dewey Decimal System still prevail when it comes to a research paper.
"Si se puede!" They erupted as the speeches were translated into Spanish.
Local elected officials and hope-to-be elected officials were there to show support. They had some words of encouragement to offer, but I wonder how much are their words worth in the face a $25.9 million budget cut. One official promised $50,000 to the Queens Libraries. That is chump change. It will get some more books, and maybe a few computers. One has to wonder why is it that the most diverse borough in NYC is getting the blunt of the budget cuts? But there is no need to get melancholy about disingenuous politicians or the distribution of funding to certain communities. Lets leave off on a positive note. I think this last quote sums up the protest and the very reason for organizing a protest.
"There is no need in pointing fingers at others, we must point our fingers at ourselves!"
What can you do to help?
- Go to your public library
- Take out a book, which will increase the circulation of materials at the branch
- Fill out your census so we have a voice (Queens has a 54% return rate)
- Take part in the Buy A Book Program and donate books you would like to see at the library
"Open our libraries!" and "We want to read!" Children and seniors roared.
It was a brisk yet powerfully bright afternoon, somehow cool and hot at the same time. We marched from Saint Paul's Church, which is just three blocks away, to the epicenter of our cause- Lefrak Library. We were letting the community know that they were in danger of losing a silent savior of the community. With city budget cuts running rapid the NYC Public Libraries were on the chopping blocks, more specifically- Queens Public Libraries.
In the last fiscal year Queens public Libraries received a $25.9 million budget cut!
"Not on our watch!" The group leader declared.
Twenty-four community libraries will be closed five days a week and average weekly hours of service will be cut to 25 hours a week. Which is a drop of 50% less operation hours per library. I knew budget cuts were becoming an issue because my mother-who has worked for the Queens Public Library for over a year now is at risk of losing her job. I didn't think much of it because everyone I know seems to be at risk of losing their job, but when I saw the flyer about this march while walking to my local super market I knew it was a more pressing issue than just one woman losing a job. The flyer stated that LeFrak Library has discontinued Saturday hours and that it would be only the beginning in budget cuts and eventually branches being closed.
If branches start getting closed the most effected by it would be seniors and children. It is a safe haven for knowledge and a home away from home. It serves as a surrogate babysitter for parents offering after school programs and various educational workshops as well as a place to connect and use a computer if you don't have access to one at home. As I said earlier the majority of the marchers were seniors and children. Kids from the local Girlscouts and Boyscouts made up most of the group- which makes perfect sense. Who else will be effected more? If children have no positive place to learn and study if they cannot do it at home, where will they learn and study? We are in the digital age where most research is done by Google but actual books and the Dewey Decimal System still prevail when it comes to a research paper.
"Si se puede!" They erupted as the speeches were translated into Spanish.
Local elected officials and hope-to-be elected officials were there to show support. They had some words of encouragement to offer, but I wonder how much are their words worth in the face a $25.9 million budget cut. One official promised $50,000 to the Queens Libraries. That is chump change. It will get some more books, and maybe a few computers. One has to wonder why is it that the most diverse borough in NYC is getting the blunt of the budget cuts? But there is no need to get melancholy about disingenuous politicians or the distribution of funding to certain communities. Lets leave off on a positive note. I think this last quote sums up the protest and the very reason for organizing a protest.
"There is no need in pointing fingers at others, we must point our fingers at ourselves!"
What can you do to help?
- Go to your public library
- Take out a book, which will increase the circulation of materials at the branch
- Fill out your census so we have a voice (Queens has a 54% return rate)
- Take part in the Buy A Book Program and donate books you would like to see at the library
Friday, April 9, 2010
Electron Habits
I've allowed myself to mentally bleep out the
curses I have cast on myself
to dodge the barrage of inner
audio, misuse, negative abuse
of the world defined as-
electron habits; negatively charged
leaving charred remains of an optimistic
brain.
curses I have cast on myself
to dodge the barrage of inner
audio, misuse, negative abuse
of the world defined as-
electron habits; negatively charged
leaving charred remains of an optimistic
brain.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Presumptous Calm
I breathe in the smoke and my
lungs jitter with an ease of comfort
what comes forth is the will of the
the calm passing winds, passing time
until I close these eyes which hide
behind corrective comfort and subside and
subsist in the crimson prisms the
presumptuous lisp, a crisp taste of calm
lungs jitter with an ease of comfort
what comes forth is the will of the
the calm passing winds, passing time
until I close these eyes which hide
behind corrective comfort and subside and
subsist in the crimson prisms the
presumptuous lisp, a crisp taste of calm
Monday, April 5, 2010
Whiplash
Cold rush o' steam on your face
that settles after the sun sets.
Breathe in the crisp dreams of tomorrow
them cicadas of our imagination.
Warm as it bubbles down your throat,
sensations of a past not quite edible.
that settles after the sun sets.
Breathe in the crisp dreams of tomorrow
them cicadas of our imagination.
Warm as it bubbles down your throat,
sensations of a past not quite edible.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
NaPoReMo
Okay I know i'm a little late but better late than never right.
#1
Sunlight fissures emanate from the windows
A cool breeze bounces from ear to ear
Half past tired and the moon is waning
Feet done-numb, hips a blazing
Soul's metronome tone in sequence to the night
Heart beats tick an everlasting bachata
#1
Sunlight fissures emanate from the windows
A cool breeze bounces from ear to ear
Half past tired and the moon is waning
Feet done-numb, hips a blazing
Soul's metronome tone in sequence to the night
Heart beats tick an everlasting bachata
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Precious
I recently read an article that peaked my interest-
http://www.afro-netizen.com/2010/03/embracing-precious-the-nuances-and-truths-in-the-individual-and-collective-stories-we-tell.html
It talks about the movie Precious and how it brings a voice and solidarity to those in similar situations while at the same time brings a negative image of Blacks in the US. She makes an interesting point of the duality of impact a movie like Precious has. Part of me wants nothing to do with the film because it just perpetuates the victimization of Blacks in America and shows negative aspects of my people to an ever increasingly ignorant audience. But on the other hand it gives a voice to the voiceless and lets them know they are not alone and may stimulate some type of change and help motivate people to impliment better child care, and mental health sources for the abused and traumatized. I am leaning more toward Precious being a negative impact on the image of Blacks in America because there aren't enough movies to balance it out. I recently went to see Brooklyn's Finest and the trailers that were shown were more of the same- Black families acting crazy , drama, drama, and more drama. Even the movie, which was directed by a Black man, still managed to depict Blacks in a negative way. I realize that movies like Precious, Slum Dog Millionaire, and Maria Full of Grace, aren't there to perpetuate stereotypes. But when those are the majority of films being made which represent a cast of minorities it gives those of privelege a narrow minded view of the people being depicted. I think the movie studios need to broaden their horizons and release more positive movies as well. Most people haven't even heard of The Great Debaters, and when there is a positive movie with minorities in it there is a white hero there to guide them to glory. *Cough* Sandra Bullock *Cough*. The article goes on to say that we are in fact getting misrepresented in the media because even though there are many stories out there like Precious there are just as many successful stories of minorities that have persevered.
http://www.afro-netizen.com/2010/03/embracing-precious-the-nuances-and-truths-in-the-individual-and-collective-stories-we-tell.html
It talks about the movie Precious and how it brings a voice and solidarity to those in similar situations while at the same time brings a negative image of Blacks in the US. She makes an interesting point of the duality of impact a movie like Precious has. Part of me wants nothing to do with the film because it just perpetuates the victimization of Blacks in America and shows negative aspects of my people to an ever increasingly ignorant audience. But on the other hand it gives a voice to the voiceless and lets them know they are not alone and may stimulate some type of change and help motivate people to impliment better child care, and mental health sources for the abused and traumatized. I am leaning more toward Precious being a negative impact on the image of Blacks in America because there aren't enough movies to balance it out. I recently went to see Brooklyn's Finest and the trailers that were shown were more of the same- Black families acting crazy , drama, drama, and more drama. Even the movie, which was directed by a Black man, still managed to depict Blacks in a negative way. I realize that movies like Precious, Slum Dog Millionaire, and Maria Full of Grace, aren't there to perpetuate stereotypes. But when those are the majority of films being made which represent a cast of minorities it gives those of privelege a narrow minded view of the people being depicted. I think the movie studios need to broaden their horizons and release more positive movies as well. Most people haven't even heard of The Great Debaters, and when there is a positive movie with minorities in it there is a white hero there to guide them to glory. *Cough* Sandra Bullock *Cough*. The article goes on to say that we are in fact getting misrepresented in the media because even though there are many stories out there like Precious there are just as many successful stories of minorities that have persevered.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Peanut Butter Jelly Time
Here lies an excerpt of a story I am working on. Feedback is always welcome.
The Door by Nicholas Henderson
The door sits in the middle of the wall. It looks so unnatural. As unnatural as a door can be. It feels like it is Challenging me, taunting me, calling out to me. How did it get there? What is its purpose. I have to know. Everyday I got home from work I’d walk passed it. Right after the turnstiles to the right of the exit, there is a door. It seems to just hover there, not really a part of our world, not really attached to the wall, but over it.
I had been walking past it for years now but I just noticed it recently. Maybe I always knew it was there,but only now is it relative. One night I decided to look up and there it was- a door in the middle of the wall. It seemed to be about eight feet above the ground and made of steel or some kind of metal. Old, like 100 year old bark. I stood there and stared at it. It felt like a black hole, tearing me apart inside out, beckoning me to come toward it. I was frozen. My legs became anchors in time unable to comprehend anything that was not the door. I don’t remember a thing from that day except for the door. I got home and was a different person. My body ached. It felt as if I had just fallen off a banister and landed on my back, if felt as if I had been staring at the sun at high noon, and it felt as if I had just made love endlessly- all at the same time.
As I stood on the platform edge waiting for the train I longed the sight of the door. It was all I could think of as I looked into the tunnel’s darkness – it cut me to pieces! The longer I stood there the more I needed to see the light of the oncoming train. It was determined to take its time. Why was I here? The ground looks like a biohazard accident, something that breeds Godzilla-like creatures. I’ve never seen a color of water quite like the stagnant substance that sticks to the NYC tracks. I wonder if that’s what clogged arteries look like? I’ve got to start eating better. Is the water clean beyond the door? She deserves better, she is not “A door”, no, the Only Door. The most important door I will ever walk through.
The Door by Nicholas Henderson
The door sits in the middle of the wall. It looks so unnatural. As unnatural as a door can be. It feels like it is Challenging me, taunting me, calling out to me. How did it get there? What is its purpose. I have to know. Everyday I got home from work I’d walk passed it. Right after the turnstiles to the right of the exit, there is a door. It seems to just hover there, not really a part of our world, not really attached to the wall, but over it.
I had been walking past it for years now but I just noticed it recently. Maybe I always knew it was there,but only now is it relative. One night I decided to look up and there it was- a door in the middle of the wall. It seemed to be about eight feet above the ground and made of steel or some kind of metal. Old, like 100 year old bark. I stood there and stared at it. It felt like a black hole, tearing me apart inside out, beckoning me to come toward it. I was frozen. My legs became anchors in time unable to comprehend anything that was not the door. I don’t remember a thing from that day except for the door. I got home and was a different person. My body ached. It felt as if I had just fallen off a banister and landed on my back, if felt as if I had been staring at the sun at high noon, and it felt as if I had just made love endlessly- all at the same time.
As I stood on the platform edge waiting for the train I longed the sight of the door. It was all I could think of as I looked into the tunnel’s darkness – it cut me to pieces! The longer I stood there the more I needed to see the light of the oncoming train. It was determined to take its time. Why was I here? The ground looks like a biohazard accident, something that breeds Godzilla-like creatures. I’ve never seen a color of water quite like the stagnant substance that sticks to the NYC tracks. I wonder if that’s what clogged arteries look like? I’ve got to start eating better. Is the water clean beyond the door? She deserves better, she is not “A door”, no, the Only Door. The most important door I will ever walk through.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Walk like Molasses
I am currently accepting donations for my moving fund. I plan to move into my own place i.e. not with my parents, by this summer but if I could expedite that expedition it would be greatly appreciated. This August I will be approaching a year before a quarter of a century and I think it's about time I wake up and smell my own coffee brewing. Let's not get into details about whether or not I even drink coffee, it's the prinicipal of the matter. If I want to drink coffee at 2am I want to be able to in my underwear.
This leads me to contemplate this recession-generation. FOC's not finding work (Fresh of the Campus). How to properly swallow the feeling of just accomplishing a life changing goal and getting recognized by your peers and loved ones that yes, you are a hard-working intelligent human being!- then working at a menial customer service job? We must throw pride into the wind and realize that some things are not our fault. Yes you could have studied that much harder instead of having a social life in college, but I know plenty of Summa and Magna Cum Laude graduates that are working right next to high school drop-outs. There are also many people out there with Masters and PhDs taking entry level position or at least entry level pay. Everyone is being shortchanged in this market.
I learned that the hard way. Upon graduation I felt some sort of privilege, I believed that upon graduation give or take six months I will have a job and move out and start my life...Those six months ended almost two years ago- geez! But yet again there is nothing to be ashamed of. In fact I am the only one of my friends that hasn't been on unemployment yet. Sadly that's not because I've never been laid off, I haven't worked anywhere long enough to qualify for that magical money vacation.
A great professor once told me that the more odd jobs you have only gives you more material for your writing. At this rate I will have a Factotum-like resume in no time. Thanks T. In other words, look at the bright side, at least you don't live in a swamp.
This leads me to contemplate this recession-generation. FOC's not finding work (Fresh of the Campus). How to properly swallow the feeling of just accomplishing a life changing goal and getting recognized by your peers and loved ones that yes, you are a hard-working intelligent human being!- then working at a menial customer service job? We must throw pride into the wind and realize that some things are not our fault. Yes you could have studied that much harder instead of having a social life in college, but I know plenty of Summa and Magna Cum Laude graduates that are working right next to high school drop-outs. There are also many people out there with Masters and PhDs taking entry level position or at least entry level pay. Everyone is being shortchanged in this market.
I learned that the hard way. Upon graduation I felt some sort of privilege, I believed that upon graduation give or take six months I will have a job and move out and start my life...Those six months ended almost two years ago- geez! But yet again there is nothing to be ashamed of. In fact I am the only one of my friends that hasn't been on unemployment yet. Sadly that's not because I've never been laid off, I haven't worked anywhere long enough to qualify for that magical money vacation.
A great professor once told me that the more odd jobs you have only gives you more material for your writing. At this rate I will have a Factotum-like resume in no time. Thanks T. In other words, look at the bright side, at least you don't live in a swamp.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Where have I been? Where am I now? Where am I going?
Recently I have been reading about race relations in the United States, more specifically the African American experience throughout history in this country. I just finished a book entitled Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome by Joy Degruy Leary. In the book I was exposed to the truths about what made the Atlantic slave trade so vicious and so different from slavery throughout history. A summation of what I learned is that slavery in other countries and in history didn't treat slaves as property and were set free after some time. Also the slaves children were free and the manner in which they became slaves were a lot of times due to warfare. In America slave trade was a business and my ancestors were treated like property, the children were slaves and those children's children were also slaves. Chattel slavery as it is called. This book took me on an emotional journey within myself to figure out where I stood as a black man in the Americas. The book not only brought to life the horrors of the physical and the psychological damage slavery and racism has done in the Americas but also how that trauma is still reverberating today.The best part about the book is that is gives hope to the future, it informs you of what has happened and then allows you to take control of your own personal situation and make it better. That is where I am today.
Where have I been? I asked myself many times while reading the book I just mentioned. It's not like I awoke a week ago and learned about slavery and racism, I'm not an uninformed closed minded person at all. I'd like to consider myself quite curious and informed. Yet I wonder why this information is effecting me so much now. I've heard Dr. King's speeches, i've seen images and videos of lynch mobs, i've read about slavery, i've seen and experience police abuse numerous times yet it's not until now do I ask myself what does it mean to be a black man in America? It's almost as if I know I should be more political and be an activist but I am not. A lot of my friends are quite outspoken on many issues that affect the world and have not only participated but organized protests and the like, yet I was absent at all of them. I know it's not a bad thing that i'm not the one holding the flag, I mean I vote, I read, I'm aware of how i'm getting screwed over by my government and how much pain and oppression is in the world. I guess I was just too young to care, I always said it didn't really affect me. I really wanted to go to the march on Washington when W. was going into Iraq, but I was still in high school and never kissed a girl yet. I wasn't about to steal money out of my mom's purse and take a bus down to D.C.! Would I do that now?
Where am I now? I believe I am in a place where I would put my comforts in jeopardy for the greater good of creating change and standing up for what I believe in. In a previous post I give Obama two thumbs down for his inability to abuse his power like W. did and just fix things up. Okay I was venting because I was pissed about my student loans and my job situation, but what else is a guy to do when he's in debt so far over his head with nothing to show for it, I felt as is my education was funded by a bunch of goons.I still think I'd have been better off going to a community college or taking a loan from the Gotti family instead of Sallie Mae- the real gangsters. But, I digress, Obama is doing what he can. This country has such a messed up system I'm surprised anything can get done. I think the real definition of bureaucracy is wait ten years to end up in the same place you started. What does this have to do with my original point of standing up for what I believe in? Well now I have my priorities in order.There is no reason to be mad at some guy who has only had a year to try and fix something that took eight years to fuck up. I should be mad at the company that screws over their employees or police officers that abuse their power. What I'm trying to say is I can't run this country, yet, so let me get my voice out to the levels of evil that I can deal with. I'm not powerless I just need to pick my battles. So once again, where am I now? I am a self-aware 23 year old working in Harlem as a receptionist for a non- profit that helps the community. I'm not making much money but I'm eating well and will hopefully be moving out of my parents place soon. I think my new-found internal epiphany in terms of my stance on being black in America couldn't have come soon enough. I can't fault myself for not being more of an activist when I was 17 just like you can't fault yourself for not knowing how to read when you were one. Everyone starts somewhere, and if you look at yourself you weren't born that way either. I'm still very young. Maybe i'm just feeling more political because i'm at a point in my life where I can truly take control of it financially which means I can go where I want, live where I want and get into what ever trouble I want. I do what I want!
Where am I going? For starters I am going to finish reading The Souls Of Black Folk by W.E.B. Dubois, and if you haven't read it, give it a try, if you're ready. There's no use in force feeding anyone. I sought out the book when I wanted to read it. It was time. Alas I am on the verge of coming into my own skin, learning about who I really am and what I want to do with my life. Other than that I am going to continue to write, read, and breakdance when I can.
This dark forest of mine has taken root in many forms
under different labels, diverse languages and
tones.
The vines have unwoven to reveal a lucious
birth of cool. A soft helmet of velvet expression.
Welcome back dear friends, the Afro has returned.
Where have I been? I asked myself many times while reading the book I just mentioned. It's not like I awoke a week ago and learned about slavery and racism, I'm not an uninformed closed minded person at all. I'd like to consider myself quite curious and informed. Yet I wonder why this information is effecting me so much now. I've heard Dr. King's speeches, i've seen images and videos of lynch mobs, i've read about slavery, i've seen and experience police abuse numerous times yet it's not until now do I ask myself what does it mean to be a black man in America? It's almost as if I know I should be more political and be an activist but I am not. A lot of my friends are quite outspoken on many issues that affect the world and have not only participated but organized protests and the like, yet I was absent at all of them. I know it's not a bad thing that i'm not the one holding the flag, I mean I vote, I read, I'm aware of how i'm getting screwed over by my government and how much pain and oppression is in the world. I guess I was just too young to care, I always said it didn't really affect me. I really wanted to go to the march on Washington when W. was going into Iraq, but I was still in high school and never kissed a girl yet. I wasn't about to steal money out of my mom's purse and take a bus down to D.C.! Would I do that now?
Where am I now? I believe I am in a place where I would put my comforts in jeopardy for the greater good of creating change and standing up for what I believe in. In a previous post I give Obama two thumbs down for his inability to abuse his power like W. did and just fix things up. Okay I was venting because I was pissed about my student loans and my job situation, but what else is a guy to do when he's in debt so far over his head with nothing to show for it, I felt as is my education was funded by a bunch of goons.I still think I'd have been better off going to a community college or taking a loan from the Gotti family instead of Sallie Mae- the real gangsters. But, I digress, Obama is doing what he can. This country has such a messed up system I'm surprised anything can get done. I think the real definition of bureaucracy is wait ten years to end up in the same place you started. What does this have to do with my original point of standing up for what I believe in? Well now I have my priorities in order.There is no reason to be mad at some guy who has only had a year to try and fix something that took eight years to fuck up. I should be mad at the company that screws over their employees or police officers that abuse their power. What I'm trying to say is I can't run this country, yet, so let me get my voice out to the levels of evil that I can deal with. I'm not powerless I just need to pick my battles. So once again, where am I now? I am a self-aware 23 year old working in Harlem as a receptionist for a non- profit that helps the community. I'm not making much money but I'm eating well and will hopefully be moving out of my parents place soon. I think my new-found internal epiphany in terms of my stance on being black in America couldn't have come soon enough. I can't fault myself for not being more of an activist when I was 17 just like you can't fault yourself for not knowing how to read when you were one. Everyone starts somewhere, and if you look at yourself you weren't born that way either. I'm still very young. Maybe i'm just feeling more political because i'm at a point in my life where I can truly take control of it financially which means I can go where I want, live where I want and get into what ever trouble I want. I do what I want!
Where am I going? For starters I am going to finish reading The Souls Of Black Folk by W.E.B. Dubois, and if you haven't read it, give it a try, if you're ready. There's no use in force feeding anyone. I sought out the book when I wanted to read it. It was time. Alas I am on the verge of coming into my own skin, learning about who I really am and what I want to do with my life. Other than that I am going to continue to write, read, and breakdance when I can.
This dark forest of mine has taken root in many forms
under different labels, diverse languages and
tones.
The vines have unwoven to reveal a lucious
birth of cool. A soft helmet of velvet expression.
Welcome back dear friends, the Afro has returned.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Circle, Cirlce, Dot...Dot
Today is Valentine's Day. Everywhere couples are holding hands, gazing into each others eyes, and saying sweet nothings. O thee joy. Surprisingly it was a pleasant day in New York City, sunny enough to take a walk. I will end with a freestyle poem.
Softly, they spoke of dining on the east side on
Sunday morning.
Together the sun melted in their eyes.
Homefries cool on the flower printed
porcelain.
...Booyah!
Softly, they spoke of dining on the east side on
Sunday morning.
Together the sun melted in their eyes.
Homefries cool on the flower printed
porcelain.
...Booyah!
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Beginning anew
I've dabbled in the blog world for some time now, about four or five years, to be exact. Sadly each time I started I ended up deleted it for lack of entries and lack of readership. This time I don't care. My blog isn't about trying to boost my writing career or appear to have a huge following like a Twitter account. I know almost no one will read this but that's fine with me. This blog is about me improving my discipline and writing skills.
If I were to meet President Obama.
If I were to sit down and meet with President Obama I would have to resist the urge to punch him in the face. Just because he is half-black doesn't make him my "brother." He is a dirty politician just like the rest of the people that run this country. I would tell him to reform education and make it possible for me and my peers to go to school without being debt for most of our adult lives. I would demand school to become more affordable and to increase opportunities in public schools. I personally think I got shafted in attended NYC public schools. When I first went to college I realized the gap between me and my new peers was staggering. I felt as if I almost went from junior high school straight into a bachelors program. I say that now because even after graduating I still have no focus and no desire in any sort of profession. I chose Creative Writing because I liked to read and I had a crush on a girl that did Slam Poetry in high school. It turned out I was somewhat good at it and I had experience on stage from drama so I stuck with it. I have since become disillusioned with Slam Poetry because anyone can talk with emphasis and a hip-hop twang, but in the end it boils down to who lived a life closest to the main character in "Precious" to get the sympathy vote.How can I compete against a poem about a personal experience with rape, it makes my poem about educational reform or love seem trivial. So, at the end of the day I am writing in this to see if I truly want to be a writer and see if I really have what it takes. Does anyone really care what I have to say? Do I have stories that need to be told? Is my imagination enough to keep you interested? I don't know but I will continue to write in this blog until something better comes along...
If I were to meet President Obama.
If I were to sit down and meet with President Obama I would have to resist the urge to punch him in the face. Just because he is half-black doesn't make him my "brother." He is a dirty politician just like the rest of the people that run this country. I would tell him to reform education and make it possible for me and my peers to go to school without being debt for most of our adult lives. I would demand school to become more affordable and to increase opportunities in public schools. I personally think I got shafted in attended NYC public schools. When I first went to college I realized the gap between me and my new peers was staggering. I felt as if I almost went from junior high school straight into a bachelors program. I say that now because even after graduating I still have no focus and no desire in any sort of profession. I chose Creative Writing because I liked to read and I had a crush on a girl that did Slam Poetry in high school. It turned out I was somewhat good at it and I had experience on stage from drama so I stuck with it. I have since become disillusioned with Slam Poetry because anyone can talk with emphasis and a hip-hop twang, but in the end it boils down to who lived a life closest to the main character in "Precious" to get the sympathy vote.How can I compete against a poem about a personal experience with rape, it makes my poem about educational reform or love seem trivial. So, at the end of the day I am writing in this to see if I truly want to be a writer and see if I really have what it takes. Does anyone really care what I have to say? Do I have stories that need to be told? Is my imagination enough to keep you interested? I don't know but I will continue to write in this blog until something better comes along...
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